


Coming home

by purple_ramblings



Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: (he doesn't), (he loves it obv), Angst probably, F/M, Sid is just there to be a cheeky little gremlin in one scene but some things just need to be done, Smoking, Valentine and Father Brown are buddies, Valentine has been retired early, also Valentine being an idiot, no violence etc applies tho, other tags ommitted for spoilers, there's going to be a lot of fluff tho, when he's done being an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25669597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_ramblings/pseuds/purple_ramblings
Summary: (Former) Inspector Valentine returns to Kembleford for his begrudging, early retirement, trading in the intensity of the big city and the Yard for the quaint quietness of the small town. But not everything you leave behind, stays behind and some things, or someones, tend to follow you wherever you go.
Relationships: Inspector Valentine/Original Female Character
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, folks, here is my Inspector Valentine story. I don't know where it came from yesterday and today I've spent the entire morning cranking out the first part of two which is also a damn miracle because usually anything under ten chapters is unheard of for me. But somehow this thing happened so yeah. Hope you enjoy!

+++++

The Red Lion was chock-full of patrons on an unusually mild early fall evening. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of beer and grease. Men were playing cards at one table, loudly so, others were telling rambunctious stories, undoubtedly aided by several pints each.

Then in one corner there was an unusual trio of men sitting together. Not unusual because you hadn’t seen these men together before, quite the contrary. But unusual because one was a priest, one was a former police inspector, and one had been said former police inspector’s pain in the ass for a good while there. Now they were sitting together over a couple of pints, trading stories about this and that, just enjoying the camaraderie.

At the other end of the pub the door opened and admitted a woman that drew a couple of whistles right away. She ignored them, she always did, and let her eyes wander the tables calmly. A few men called out to her, but she ignored that too. She was wearing a white blouse with a beige skirt and a light jacket over that, nothing outrageous that would have turned any heads if these men hadn’t been well into their pints already.

When she found what she was looking for, her whole posture straightened and the calls quietened. Determination manifested on her face, her light brown eyes (not that any of these morons could see that, all they saw were a skirt and the shape of her bosom) narrowed and she made her way towards the corner where she had spied her target. Later the town talk would eventually embellish the story to her bursting into the pub, everyone falling silent as she stormed her way over to him with her light brown hair waving behind her and screeched at him for breaking her heart, the embodiment of ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’.

There was no bursting or storming involved as she made her way to his table, her steps sure and confident, and she also didn’t screech at him when she looked him dead into the eyes and asked: “So, are you going to run away again like a scared little boy or are we going to talk about this finally?”

That did silence the two other men he was sitting with, a quick glance made one of him the priest she had somewhat expected and the other a man a few years younger than herself, possibly, who seemed absolutely delighted by the turn of events. A few people within the closer vicinity were also definitely straining their ears to listen in.

“Oohh, I like this one,” the younger man commented with unconcealed glee. His mouth quickly snapped shut at her sharp look though.

Her eyes only strayed from _him_ momentarily to keep that loudmouth quiet but went back to him immediately. For a split moment he had looked like a deer caught in the headlights but now his face was that impenetrable expression that he had learned and used so frequently in his old job. Even she couldn’t crack it.

“Be a bit rude to run out now, just got served,” he replied finally and the ambient temperature dropped to just a few degrees above antarctic level.

Her look told him that he was about to be served something else entirely, as the pints on the table were less than half full. Giving him an icy look, she reached for the glass in front of him, put it to her lips and drained it with a few gulps. Still holding his gaze, she reached for the one in front of the priest, tore her eyes away for a moment to give the priest an apologetic look which he gave a flat smile to, and finished that one as well. The youngest of the three happily offered his own glass which had the least left in it and then there were only three empty pints on the table.

“You might want to collect your jaw from the floor, lad,” she told the youngest whose jaw snapped shut for the second time. “Can we talk now?” She gestured to the empty glasses.

“What about?” he asked in a tone that suggested that there was nothing to talk about and he knew instantly that it was a mistake. He made the futile attempt to reach for her but she had already taken a step back, her own face becoming an impenetrable expression as well.

“You’re fired, Valentine,” she told him coldly, turned on her heels, and left.

+++++

Yes. Yes, this would do, he thought taking in the not vast but more than sufficient backyard behind the cottage he had just signed a lease to. This was about as good as it got. A small but adequate one bedroom house with some added perks, like the backyard and conservatory and also the tiny extra room he was going to use as a study of sorts, in Kembleford, Gloucestershire for a reasonable price. His pension wasn’t great, not at his age, but it would pay for this and the rest he had covered by other means. This was home now, three years after after leaving Kembleford he was back and this time for good.

There wasn’t much he had to unpack into his new home. The bookcase overflew with books fairly quickly which he had expected and made a mental note to get another one for the study so he could sort through his books. The more leisure oriented ones would remain downstairs while the ones that spoke of his former career, like “Traité de Criminalistique” by Edmond Locard, would go upstairs. He still referenced them every now and then for his other endeavor but he could get them down when he needed them.

The spot where he was going to undertake that specific activity was definitely going to be in the conservatory looking out into the garden that he planned to fix up quite nicely. He’d have the time for that sort of thing now. The conservatory and garden had been the selling points for him and he was glad he’d stuck around looking at different houses before he settled on one.

When he was about done organizing his new home, he went to the telephone in the hall and picked up the receiver. “Hello? St. Mary’s presbytery, please.” He was connected quickly and the telephone only rang a few times until there was an answer. “Good afternoon, Mrs. McCarthy, good to hear you. – Yes, one and the very same. I was wondering if the Father was in? – Very well, I’ll be ‘round shortly then. – Oh no, wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise, would we? – Exactly. Bye, Mrs. McCarthy.” He hung up, satisfied with having learned that the one person he was looking forward to seeing would be back at the presbytery shortly. He picked up his hat and jacket from their hangers, grabbed his brand new house keys and left.

“What a wonderful surprise,” Father Brown repeated his first sentiment when they had sat down for the dinner Mrs. McCarthy had quickly stretched to feed two grown men before she had bustled off for the day. “Your last visit has been some time, Inspector Valentine.”

He grimaced slightly at both parts of that sentence, washing down a delicious bite with a sip of water before replying. “I’m not here for a visit, Father.”

“Ah, I see. Tricky case then?” The Father perked up immediately.

“I’m afraid there will be no more cases for me,” Valentine explained rather flatly and the Father could see on his face that he wasn’t all that happy about it. “Been retired early, I’ve been. Just a few weeks ago. Got shot in the shoulder, took a few months to recover from it and it still isn’t right.” He massaged the spot that still gave him trouble gingerly. Setting up house in one day had maybe been a little more than he should have done.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Father Brown said and Valentine knew he meant it. He gave an appreciative nod. “So you’re back for good then!” The priest perked up at that prospect just as he had at the possibility of solving another tricky case with his friend.

“Signed a lease for a little cottage just at the edge of town this morning,” Valentine confirmed.

“Wonderful.” The Father very contently ate a few more bites. “And what will you be doing now? I can’t imagine you’re the type of retiree to sit about sipping tea and poking around the yard to fill your days.”

“I do plan on doing some gardening actually,” Valentine chuckled and the Father smiled. “I’ve been doing some external consultation work for a while. Keeps the cogs turning but has none of the chase.”

“Which you are sure to miss,” Father Brown commented knowingly. “Well, I do have some new maps of trails around the area. And of course I still have the badge, although Inspector Mallory doesn’t set much store by it.”

“Of course not.” Valentine smirked into his dinner. Working with both Mallory and Sullivan a few months before had been interesting to say the least and he would deny it resolutely if anyone mentioned it, but he had been keeping tabs on Kembleford and his successors at regular intervals since leaving. The Father was still making a rather annoying nuisance of himself quite frequently but at least cases were getting solved, one way or another.

The two men finished their dinner with companionable but rather trivial chatter and the moved over into the study with a good drink, courtesy the Father’s secret stash.

They went on reminiscing about this and that but every now and then, for a moment or two, a far away look came to Valentine’s face and the Father wondered where it came from. It seemed a rather melancholic expression which was quite unlike his friend. Serious he was, yes, but melancholic? Maybe there was more to all of this than ‘just’ Valentine’s early retirement, maybe there was more to his injury than he was letting on. But like always, he didn’t pry.

+++++

Valentine had been in Kembleford for going on two months during which he had shared many a drink and evening with the Father. They had also gone on a few hikes, taking it easy as they weren’t the youngest anymore, they’d silently agree as the trails and slopes had them huffing and puffing. He also got reacquainted with Mrs. McCarthy, got to know Bunty a little better and then Sidney Carter also returned for a visit which had brought them out to the pub for the night. Where, then, the ‘scorned fury’ had turned up.

Only she wasn’t a scorned fury. Well, he had kind of scorned her, he had to admit. And she had every right to be furious with him too. But this wasn’t furious on her, this was addressing something dead-on that he had been skirting around for months and then disappeared to Kembleford without a word. He quite wished she hadn’t finished his pint as he watched her figure weave back to the pub’s door quickly.

“Well, that is interesting, innit,” Carter commented joyfully. Valentine fought the urge to wipe the gleeful delight from the younger man’s face and signaled to the bartender for a fresh drink.

“Aren’t you going to go after her?” Father Brown questioned, sounding both curious as well as puzzled. Valentine carefully avoided looking him in the face.

“No point,” he said finally and took a deep swallow from the fresh pint he was served then. “She’s made up her mind already.”

“Didn’t sound like it,” Carter was the one to say and the Father looked like he’d taken the words from his lips. “Asked you to talk, didn’t she?”

“If you didn’t quite hear, she also fired me,” Valentine growled darkly and had another deep swallow.

“So you’ve been consulting her… on what exactly?” Father Brown looked at him with his usual inquisitive little frown, trying to understand the situation.

“If you’re fired from consulting her, maybe she’ll have me on instead,” Carter smirked and rose from his chair.

Valentine banged down a fist on the table, making the two other men jump in surprise. “Sit. Down,” he ground out and Carter sat down.

Father Brown eyed his friend for another moment or two and then stood himself. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said lightly and exited the pub.

Much like he had hoped, the woman was still outside, across the street having a smoke. He watched her face fall as she saw him cross the street.

“You don’t have to make amends for him, Father,” she told him and stubbed out her cigarette. “He’s made himself quite clear.”

“So have you, I believe,” he replied softly.

“There’s only so much a woman can take,” she said with a good bit of resignedness audible. “I’ll be off now, Father, thank you for coming out though.”

“Let me walk you home.”

She looked at him for a moment, completely surprised, but then gave a shrug. “I think I’m quite old enough to walk myself home but if you wish.”

“Thank you.” He gave her a warm smile. “Might I know your name?”

She stared at him for another moment and he could tell that she was trying hard to keep her face even though she couldn’t keep the hurt from showing up in her light eyes. “My name is Millie Daubney.”

“Father Brown.” He shook her hand heartily. “Shall we? Where are we going?”

“I’ve rented a small holiday cottage for a week although I now think I’ll be needing it quite that long.” She gestured to their left and so they began their walk.

“Ah, well, I wouldn’t expect that all has been said and done just yet,” he tried to be positive about something there was really nothing positive to be about anymore.

“You’re right,” she agreed with him though. “Not much has been said and even less done. But the absence of words and actions can speak very loudly too.”

“That is true.”

They walked in silence for a while.

“How do you know Valentine, if I may ask?” He looked at her from the side, watching her reaction to the question.

Her lips thinned for a moment as she looked off down the street. “He hasn’t talked about me at all, as he?” she asked quietly.

“I’m afraid not.”

She nodded slowly. “I don’t know why I expected anything different actually. He made himself quite clear.”

“We all hold on to hope despite everything,” he comforted her kindly.

“We do, don’t we?” she pondered thoughtfully. “I met Henr- Valentine, about two years ago. I was… writing a piece in connection with a case he had just solved, the disappearance of a young woman and a family’s treasure being discovered.”

“Yes, Elspeth McKinley, I remember. I believe it was the case that earned him the promotion to London.”

“It did,” she confirmed quietly. “It took some convincing to get him to work with me but…” She smiled sadly.

“You fell in love,” Father Brown finished for her, very delicately.

“ _I_ did.”

“Henry didn’t?” He wasn’t entirely sure of the situation just yet but he’d seen enough and knew Valentine well enough to have serious doubt on that.

“He…” She gave a helpless shrug. “We worked together very well, very successfully too. Spent a lot of good times together.” She nodded to herself, thinking back obviously. “Then he got shot half a year ago, badly too. His shoulder was nearly shattered by the bullet and they had to do a number of surgeries so he would be able to use his arm at least in some way afterwards. Took a long time to recover from all that.”

“And you were there for him all through it.”

She nodded and pressed her lips together for a few moments. “I nursed him back to health,” she said, voice full of emotion. “I was there every day. I learned from the nurses and the physiotherapists how to care for his wounds, how to do his exercises to promote mobility, everything.”

“You love him very much.”

In the light of a nearing street lamp he could see tears starting to glisten in her eyes. “I do,” she whispered.

“Then he received his early retirement and came to Kembleford.”

She swallowed and her shoulders straightened, her chin gaining a more determined jut. “He did. Without telling me.”

Father Brown grimaced at that. That certainly explained the melancholic look he had seen on his friend’s face quite a number of times since his arrival.

“We had…” She pursed her lips angrily. “We had been arguing about the future, you see. Henry… had never made a… declaration of intention or feelings of sorts and I was fine with that. But when he got injured I realized that I couldn’t stand to lose him.”

“Incidents like that often make us realize what is truly precious to us.”

She nodded. “I basically lived with him when he was discharged from hospital, taking care of him, and I thought it was rather impractical to keep two homes when we were using only one. I suggested getting a place together and suddenly I didn’t recognize him anymore.”

Father Brown made a slight face at that but he understood. “Some men can easily spook with talk of the future, can’t they?”

She gave a snort. “Absolutely. I didn’t think he would be one of them though. All of sudden we were just having a bit of fun, over the course of a year and a half mind you, me taking care of him and almost living together, and I should look for someone my own age if I wanted someone to settle down with.” She spat out the last of that bitterly and shook her head.

“I couldn’t help but notice that he does seem a bit older than you,” the Father tried to respond diplomatically but she just gave him a look.

“I’m 37, Father, he is 56. Nineteen years difference. A difference that was of no concern even once until that moment.” She released a deep breath. “Shortly after he left and it took me this long to track him down only to realize that to him there seems to be nothing left to talk about and I am now an author short.”

“An author?” Father Brown’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “He said he was doing some external consulting.”

She chuckled at that and smiled softly. “I work for a publishing house. He’s one of my best authors, Father, crime novels naturally. Under a pseudonym, of course.”

“Huh.” That seemed to have the priest thoroughly stumped.

“This is me, Father.” She gestured to a small house a few paces ahead. “Thank you for walking me home. I don’t think we’ll be meeting another time but it was lovely to finally have a face to a name.” She shook his hand firmly.

“As I said, Miss Daubney, I don’t believe that all has been said and done just yet. I wouldn’t close the case just yet.” He gave her another kind smile. She didn’t say anything to that, only gave a lopsided smile in return. “It has been a pleasure to meet you as well and I wish you all the best for the future.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly and went into the house. He waited until he saw the lights turn on inside, then turned to leave. There was much to think about now.

+++++

The problem with hope was that it was a difficult thing to squash. Clinging to hope despite knowing so much better, despite everything pointing to something else, was a very human thing to do and she felt very human too when she watched the train roll into the station. There were several others waiting for it with her and then a few more others goodbyeing them, but none of them were the man she had hoped to see.

“Well, alright then,” she whispered to herself, clutching her suitcase as she entered the train. She chose a place in the direction of travel and made sure to stare straight ahead. It was just another minute until the train was leaving, heading back to London, bringing her back to the colorless life of the past two months, with too much work and little else, and she really didn’t need another sixty seconds watching the platform filled with everyone but him.

Finally the train gave a jerk and stuttered back into motion. She exhaled a very controlled breath and closed her eyes, nodding to herself. This was it, it was over.

When about half the train had moved out of the station, there was a new arrival at the station. A man with a hat rushed onto the platform, arm poised, yelling out for the train to stop, only to stand there with slumping shoulders as the trains’ rear rolled out as well.

+++++


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of three :D  
> I'm so happy that there were so many lovely responses to this, I hope you love this chapter as well!  
> Fair warning - you might wanna brush your teeth after this sugary cotton candy fluff :D  
> also wanted to add that the idea that Valentine writes came from @bisidneycarter as we were throwing around ideas for this story :) thank you so much!

+++++

There was a loud and annoyingly persistent noise coming from somewhere and it was slowly but surely waking the figure slumped over the small table in the conservatory. The figure emitted a pitiful groan, slapping a hand over their eyes blinded by the bright daylight as they regained consciousness.

The noise was someone knocking on the front door, he realized eventually and somehow his addled brain also added a strong  inkling who the annoyingly persistent person on the other side of the door might be. Heaving another groan, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. There was a glass and a bottle of liquor in front of him, empty to a degree he didn’t care to assess in further detail.

Then the knocking suddenly stopped and it took him a little too long to connect that with any suspicion. By the time his bleary mind did that, he could hear someone in the entrance area and only just managed to let the glass and bottle disappear in a kitchen drawer when his inkling was proven true.

“Good morning, Valentine,” Father Brown greeted him brightly, totally disregarding the quite obvious state the other man was in. He was still in yesterday’s clothes, thoroughly rumpled, and the air bore the pungent odor of drink.

“I suppose it’s not quite morning anymore,” Valentine responded with a grimace, squinting his eyes to be able to look at his watch.

“Not quite,” the Father agreed.

“And I suppose I don’t have to ask what you’re doing here.”

“If you mean Millie then I have heard her side of the story, yes.”

“Surprised she told you anything at all.” Valentine shook his head and pottered around his kitchen to set the kettle to boil for some tea. He was going to need a very, very strong cup of tea for this conversation.

“I was rather surprised that she seemed to know who I was but I didn’t know who she was,” Father Brown replied in a rare advance that could almost be called direct.

Valentine was with his back to the Father then, fixing two cups with tea bags. He gave a deep sigh then and his shoulders slumped. “She is…” He trailed off, wondering how he could ever fill that sentence. “Everything I shouldn’t want but do.”

“Tell me about her?”

Valentine finished fixing the teas and then they sat at the table that he had set up in the conservatory specifically with the intention to write. Only he didn’t have a writing job anymore, but he pushed that thought far away.

“Millie is…” He looked out into the garden thoughtfully. “She is every bit as nosy and persistent as you are, just a whole lot more direct and even more stubborn.” He smiled wryly and took a sip of tea. “For a moment there I thought she was gonna throw the pint in my face yesterday.” He chuckled at that. “But it’s also very her that she just finished all three of them off instead. You never know what she’s going to do next.”

“Sounds like a wonderful woman.” Father Brown gave a warm, encouraging smile.

“She is.” Valentine nodded. “She’s also almost twenty years my junior.”

“She told me.”

“I…” He stalled with another swallow of tea. “Didn’t take me long to fall head over heels for her. She approached me when I arrived in London because she was doing research for a book that vaguely had to do with some of that McKinley case, wayward love and secret passages and all that. Got my name from the newspapers and tracked me down. Wouldn’t leave me alone until I’d told her all I could about it.”

Father Brown seemed to enjoy that and Valentine figured he would. In fact, Father Brown and Millie would probably get on so well that Valentine would regret ever introducing them. But that was not the reason why he had never mentioned her.

“She had me write some of it down and then she came back with it and asked me if I could write more. I didn’t really get it at first, I was used to writing reports and I didn’t think she would want more of those. She didn’t, she wanted the running commentary I’d given.”

That seemed to amuse the Father and Valentine couldn’t help the smirk on his face. He did have a sense of humor to him, he did.

“She basically maneuvered me into the first book without me noticing. Kept throwing around plot points and ideas, writing down everything I made of them. Then she presented me with the outline and told me to write it. _Told_ me to write it.” He shook his head at that but also chuckled. “I thought she was mad, still think that matter of fact. But I wrote it. She edited it, wrestled a publishing agreement from me and then the book went off. Nobody was more surprised than me. But she? She just grinned like the cat that had gotten the cream and she didn’t say it, but her entire face said: ‘I told you so’.” And that was the moment he had fallen in love. He didn’t say it but he didn’t have to, it was very clear.

“What happened then?” the Father urged him along and Valentine lit up a cigarette before he did.

“Best year of my life is what happened,” he admitted freely. “Saw her almost every day when work would permit, cooked up another two outlines for a book, wrote one of them, the other…” He gestured to the pile of papers and the typewriter on the little side table. “Then I got shot.”

Father Brown grimaced at that. He hadn’t liked hearing his friend had gotten so seriously injured that he’d have to retire from a job he loved and he hadn’t liked seeing his friend struggle with a non-fully functioning shoulder and arm in the time that he had been back in Kembleford.

“Don’t remember how it happened, only remember up until just before we went in. Woke up in the hospital after the first surgery that saved my life and there she was. Asleep in the chair next to my bed, holding my hand.” That was the second moment he had known he loved her. “Refused to leave after that, she did. Argued with doctors, nurses, physiotherapists, everyone. Pestered them until they gave up trying to keep her out of it because that was easier than continuing to argue with her.”

Father Brown smiled at that again, Valentine’s voice showed so clearly how fond he was of Millie.

“Eventually got discharged, hopped up on medication still, this whole thing a mess and absolutely no use.” He gestured to his arm. “Refused to leave then too. Figured out ways I could do things at home with one and a half functioning arms. Took most of her work home so she could be there for me.”

The Father pressed his lips together eventually and Valentine knew why. It was because he was holding back the question, the obvious question. The why isn’t she here now?

“It was comfortable like that, waking up with her every day, spending so much time together. I wasn’t in the best mood, mind you, horrible grump she’d call me at least five times a day. But she stayed.”

“Why didn’t you let her continue to stay?” Father Brown asked finally and Valentine’s face was overcome by that familiar expression that the Father could now attribute to Millie.

“Got called in just after the doctors told me that it wasn’t gonna get much better with the shoulder. Chief thanked me and all that, then handed me my discharge and early retirement papers. Didn’t react the best to it, I guess.”

He’d come home and torn into Millie who had been on the finishing touches of his second book. He couldn’t recall all he had said to her but all of it was complete and utter bullshit, and most of all entirely undeserved. He hadn’t stopped until she’d run out in tears and then she’d stayed away for two days. Two days in which he had calmed down some but that couldn’t erase the overwhelming realization that Millie deserved better.

“She’d been hinting at finding a flat together for a bit but I never took it seriously. Only she was, dead serious. Didn’t care if we were married or not, just wanted me, she said. Wanted to come home to me.” He stayed quiet for a while after that.

“Do you think she’s smart?” Father Brown asked into the silence after a long while.

Valentine’s head jerked up and he almost glared at the Father. “She’s the smartest person I know. I haven’t even told you half the things she’s done and accomplished all on her own.”

The Father nodded in acknowledgment. “And you said she is persistent and direct.”

“Unfailingly so.”

“So if she’s told you she wants to be with you, that she wants to come home to you, and if she is the smart, persistent and direct person you think she is – why don’t you believe her she means it?”

Valentine stubbed out the butt of his cigarette, chuckling dryly. “I don’t not believe her.”

“Then what is it? Why are you not with her?”

“Because I’m too old for her! Because I’m a grumpy, unfit old man and she’s…!” Valentine exclaimed and stood to lean against the door leading out into the backyard. He had made good progress there already, digging up all the beds and making a proper plan of it before planting anything new. Mrs. McCarthy had been massively helpful with it, even surrendering a few of her own strawberry plants for him. “I could be her father,” he added darkly.

“But you’re not,” Father Brown pointed out firmly. “You’re the man she wants to come home to.”

“She’s only 37, she can still… find someone her age, have a family, build a proper home with someone who hasn’t got a shoddy shoulder and a meager early retirement pension.”

“Has she been married before?” Father Brown inquired.

Valentine shook her head. “Said she’s never had the urge to settle with anyone she was with so she never did. Got lucky with her great-aunt’s inheritance and founding the publishing house so she was never short for money or work even on her own.”

The Father hummed at that and made the face he made when he wanted to say something but was holding it back.

“Spit it out,” Valentine snapped impatiently, lighting another cigarette.

“How long has she known how old exactly you are?” he asked and Valentine was quite certain it was not what he had originally wanted to say.

“Pretty early on. Weaseled it out of a file actually. Didn’t know until she took me out for a birthday dinner.”

“I see.” That expression didn’t ease as they were silent for a while again. “So let me restate the facts.” Father Brown broke the silence again. “You work very well together and you immensely enjoy the time you spend together.” He waited until Valentine confirmed with a nod. “She knew from early on just how old you are and she never expressed any concern or care about that matter.” Valentine nodded again, begrudgingly. “She is very smart and very able.” Another nod. “And she’s told you repeatedly that she wanted to be with you, in different ways.” A sigh and a nod. “Then I’m afraid there is only one conclusion.”

“And that is?” Valentine finally turned around to face his friend again.

“You’re an idiot!”

For a moment Valentine’s entire face was taken over by his complete and utter bafflement at the Father’s exclamation. The Father stared back at him defiantly too, absolutely no intention to take it back. The only problem was that he couldn’t disagree. He was an idiot. A massive one at that.

Valentine sat back down heavily and stubbed out his half-finished cigarette. “I am,” he sighed deeply. “And now she’s gone.”

“A reliable source tells me that she’s taking the train back to London at 3:37pm.”

Valentine glanced at his watch. It was 3:29pm. “I’m never gonna make it,” he fretted but Father Brown smiled brightly.

“Which is why I took the liberty of asking Sid to wait outside. You took a little longer to work through it, I’ll admit, but I’m sure Sid will do his very best.”

“And break all speeding limits while he does,” Valentine muttered under his breath but then jumped to his feet. “Let’s go.”

They didn’t make it.

He came out onto the platform, almost falling over his own feet in his rush, only to see the last carriage of the train exit the station and the train’s rear lights. He was too late. She was gone.

+++++

Millie sat in front of a page filled with letters, words, sentences, and no matter how many times she made her eyes travel over them, she couldn’t take any of them in. Heaving a sigh she massaged the spot between her eyebrows that had been permanently crinkled since coming back from Kembleford. In the week that she had been back, the week she had also taken off work so when she’d wandered in on Monday morning, Nettie, her assistant, and Lewis, her company’s solicitor, had known immediately what that meant. Since then she had spent entirely too much time sitting behind this desk, staring at letters, words, sentences in front of her and not taking any of them in.

Her mind felt full and empty at the same time. When Nettie came in with tea or food, she found herself wondering how the time had passed and couldn’t remember what she had been doing, or thinking, in that time. At the same time her mind was reeling with everything, memories, his face, his smile, his laugh, his words.

She looked over to the empty spot where a picture frame had been sitting until this week. One side had been the autograph she had wrestled from him on a title page of his first book (not the one he had signed specifically for her, that holy treasure was tucked away in the box with everything else that reminded her of him or belonged to him at home) and the other was a picture she had managed to sneak. Now that frame was face down in the bottom drawer and she was very aware of its presence in every moment.

Suddenly her attention was drawn away by some noises outside her door. There were voices, getting louder by the moment, and one of them was definitely Nettie. Which was unlike her very mild-mannered, patient assistant. Life-saver more like, without Nettie the whole company would have failed long ago.

Millie went to the door, fully ready to chastise whichever of her employees was disturbing the peace, or any client that might, and had the door halfway open when she heard the door that made the rest of her sentence die in her throat.

“Whatever is going on he-”

It was him. Of course it was. And Nettie was bodily trying to keep him from advancing to Millie’s office, bless her heart.

“I’m calling Norman,” Nettie declared resolutely, picking up her telephone receiver to call down to the printing press and the foreman who was much more likely to be able to forcibly remove Henry from the premises.

“What do you want?” Millie asked while Nellie did that and somehow Henry seemed to take that as permission to approach.

“I finished another book,” he told her and held out a stack of papers to her.

“I ended your contract,” she said stoically, not accepting the papers but folding her arms in front of her middle.

“I know. I was hoping you might read it anyway. It’s not my best work, admittedly, and completely different from what I’ve written before but it’s the most important thing I’ve ever written,” he explained gently, begging her with his eyes, his beautiful, wonderful blue eyes that she loved so much, to take it.

“Why should I read it?” she asked gruffly, almost ripping the papers out of his hand with every intention to bin them, or better yet let Nellie have them immediately after he was gone to tear them up. Less temptation that way.

“I love you,” he said and it was probably the only thing he could have said that-

“...what?” she whispered, staring at him with this expression that almost made him want to get shot again because he deserved it for hurting her this much. In the background, Nettie abruptly stopped ordering Norman to come up immediately.

“I love you,” he repeated and reached for her hand holding the papers, turning it so she could see the title page.

_I love you_

_by_

_Henry J. Valentine_

She stared at the page unmoving for several moments. Her hand was shaking when she opened the manuscript to the first page and he could see her chin start to wobble as she started to read.

_Once upon a time there was a queen of the bees. She wasn’t a real queen nor a real bee but she might as well have been for she possessed royal beauty and endless zeal. Her hair as well as her eyes were the color of wildflower honey, and she was just as sweet._

She skimmed the rest of the page, then flipped ahead a few pages, skimmed that too, flipped a few more, read a few lines. She glanced at him before she skipped all the way ahead to the last page.

_...and_ _they lived happily ever after._

She swallowed thickly against a sizable lump that had formed in her throat. “We,” she had to clear her throat. “We don’t publish fairy tales,” she got out but it wasn’t more than just above a whispered croak.

“What about love stories?” he asked, taking another step closer. She hadn’t noticed that he had come closer and closer while she read, he was now close enough to reach for her, to put his hands on her hips and pull her to him gently. “I’m sorry,” he said, nothing else, no list of deeds he was sorry for, no excuses, just a simple and entirely heartfelt, honest apology. She didn’t need anything else.

“What took you so long?!” she asked him accusingly, giving him a dark look as he slid his hands behind her back and pulled her into his body, but the look was already softening before she had even finished speaking.

“Took me a while to write that hogwash,” he grinned, nodding at the manuscript that she was clutching between them.

“Hogwash!” she gasped indignantly, hitting him in the chest with her free hand as he laughed. “That’s our love story, Henry Joseph Valentine!” She hit him again, for good measure.

“Took me a while to believe that I deserved the treasure I had in my arms and that I’d be a fool to let her go,” he added in a lower voice, out of earshot for Nettie who seemed disgruntled at that but neither Millie nor Henry were paying her any attention.

“You really would be,” Millie replied confidently and he smiled. “You still deserve about a million years in doghouse for that stunt though, Valentine.”

“I’ll take whatever you rule as punishment, your honor, as long as it involves us, together,” he told her and knew he would regret it, even as he said it, especially when he saw the glint in her honey eyes.

“I’ve read a lot of books, I have a vast database to draw from,” she warned him, a smile tugging on the corners of her mouth already.

“Any chance of convincing you of a lenient sentence?” he rasped lowly and pressed her into his chest, leaning in.

“Perhaps, prepare yourself for lengthy negotiations,” she whispered back coyly and almost sighed in relief and delight when his lips finally pressed against hers again. She did make a displeased noise when he pulled away far too quickly for her liking.

“Come to Kembleford with me,” he asked her, finally, and the affirmative was almost out of her mouth when-

“I can’t.”

His face fell and she scrambled to stop the surrender and sadness from seeping into his eyes.

“I mean, I can’t right now. I’m going to Scotland tomorrow to sign another author and I-” She looked over to Nettie desperately but her assistant seemed entirely too taken by the romance novel taking place right in front of her to be of much use.

Henry smiled in relief and gave her a quick, conciliatory kiss. “Come visit me after?”

She frowned at him very darkly then and his heart dropped because it meant he had definitely said something wrong again. “If I’m coming to Kembleford, I’m not coming to  _visit_ ,” she established very clearly, still frowning. “I’m coming to stay.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, honey bee,” he beamed and finally she got a longer kiss out of it. Much more to her liking. “Have the perfect spot for you to sit while you read and edit.”

“Do you now?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “What about a second bedroom? We should adhere to propriety until the wedding, I suppose.” She openly laughed at the way his eyes widened comically at that. “What? You’ll write me a fairy tale, but you won’t marry me?” She gave him a challenging look, mischief also sparkling in her eyes.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do,” he replied charmingly and she laughed again, leaning up to give him a soft kiss.

“I’ll have you either way, my love, but could you really take the joy of marrying one of his friends from Father Brown?” she questioned with a warm, fond smile.

He bellowed a laugh that made her grin from ear to ear. “I knew I’d regret having you two meet.”

“And you’ll continue to regret it for the rest of your days, my love,” she cackled and laughed into the kiss he pressed to her lips to shut her up. Then she looked over his shoulder and gave a smile to Norman who had finally come up and was filling just about the entire door frame. “Thank you, Norman, but I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands,” she called out to him, hands interlocked behind her prince charming’s neck.

Norman fixed Henry with a piercing stare, gave a nod at his boss and disappeared again.

“Nettie, don’t put through any calls, no one’s to disturb me, I’ve some editing to do,” Millie told her assistant as she dragged Henry with her into her office by the wrist.

“I’ll be taking my lunch now then?” Nettie called after her.

“Take the rest of the day off,” Millie smirked and closed the office door.

+++++


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, the last of the chapters of the Inspector Valentine tales. But fear not, my brain is already cooking up a new Valentine one - even despite the unholy heat (37°C yesterday). Whenever my brain decides to move beyond being fried, I'll give it a go because I have to admit I've fallen a little bit in love with Inspector Valentine :)  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy and have a great day!

+++++

Millie’s business up in Scotland took nearly a week and although no one in Kembleford was going to tell on him, Valentine spent that entire week in a mess of nerves.

When he’d come back alone they’d all fretted it might not have gone so well for a moment there but then he’d asked to speak with the Father alone after which a very emotional Father Brown had come into the kitchen, telling Mrs. M that they needed to fit in another wedding somewhere. After that there was no holding it anymore and Valentine was subjected to many questions about his fiancée as well as many congratulatory handshakes and shoulder pats and most of all to just as many celebratory drinks down at the pub when the news had made the rounds.

All that couldn’t gloss over that he was anxiously awaiting Millie’s arrival and that a shred of doubt remained whether she really would. When the train came in that she had telegramed him, he was standing on the platform, nearly crushing the stems of the flowers he had gotten for her in his hand from anxiety and anticipation. He almost dropped them when he saw her climb out of the train two carriages from where he was standing and hurried over to her. A kind gentleman was handing down two more suitcases in addition to the one she had carried herself.

“Packed lightly, did ya?” he teased her with a smile and laughed when she swatted at his good shoulder.

“Not visiting, am I?” she shot back with the biggest smile on her face.

“No, you’re not.” He snuck in a quick kiss then grabbed the other two suitcases. “You’re lucky Carter’s still in town and has free range of Lady Felicia’s fleet.”

Millie perked up. “Carter, is that the handsome boy from the pub?” she asked brightly and smiled at Henry’s dark look. “Handsome _boy_ , my love.” She winked at him.

“You’ll turn his head right in,” he grumbled and was not at all comforted by the continuing smile on her face.

“Well, he’s out of luck anyway.” She leaned against his arm lightly and gave him that special smile he knew was just for him. “I hope you have no other plans for the rest of the day, my love.”

The look she gave him with that had the distinct ability to make him a little hot under his collar. “Uhm, actually we’re invited for dinner at the presbytery. Mrs. McCarthy insisted.”

Millie pouted for a moment but then shrugged. “She’s the judgy, devout old lady, isn’t she?” she asked in a stage whisper and he nodded with amusement on his face. “Do we need to tell her about the two bedrooms?”

“I think that ship has well and truly sailed, darling,” he chuckled and was then entertained by Millie cheerfully greeting Sidney and indeed turning his head quite successfully from the looks of it. He gave the younger man a stern look before he got into the backseat with Millie for good measure but left it at that. She smiled at him knowingly as he sat down and reached for his hand, kissing the back of it.

“Wait.” He extended his arm to keep her from going inside right after he had unlocked the front door. “Only gonna get to do this once.”

Millie yelped in surprise then in protest when he proceeded to literally sweep her off her feet and carry her over the threshold. “Henry, your shoulder!” she chastised him when he set her down inside. “You’re not supposed to-”

He silenced her with a look to which she pursed her lips in displeasure.

“Fine. I’m going to take a look around.” She disappeared off into the living room, leaving him to bring up her suitcases. “Oh!” he heard a few moments later and knew what she had found.

It was exactly where he found her a few minutes later, sitting on the rocking chair he had acquired during the last week, looking out into the garden.

“This _is_ the perfect spot to read and edit,” she told him, smiling up at him. “And you can sit there and write. I’ve reread your fairy tale a few times last week, alright, it was probably more than a few times but that is neither here nor there. I’ve reread it and it’s not half bad, I have to say. We could try branching you, or rather Horace Ruskin, out into romance. Handsome detective solving a case and winning a beautiful woman’s heart. Would sell well, I think. She could be a copy editor, maybe, just a suggestion.”

He laughed quietly and leaned down to drop a kiss on her forehead. “Whatever you like, honey bee.”

That made a rather naughty grin tug at her lips. “I’d like to be shown the upstairs now, my love.”

They barely made it on time to dinner at the presbytery which surprised exactly none of the two of them, and perhaps none of the others either.

“Millie. How wonderful to see you again!” Father Brown smiled as he opened the door for them.

“And you, Father!” she smiled back. “Thank you for talking some sense into Henry, he does have a bit of a thick head every now and then.” She gave a playfully exasperated look to her fiancé.

“I’ve never noticed,” Father Brown replied innocently to which Millie laughed in delight and Valentine just took it good-naturedly.

“Ah, Sidney, I wasn’t aware you were going to be here too!” he heard her sing from the kitchen where she had gone through ahead of the two men.

Valentine made a face at the Father who made a face back at him. Both men sighed in agreement.

“…and this is our lovely Mrs. McCarthy,” Carter was saying as they joined the motley crew, apparently Bunty had already been introduced.

“I’ve heard absolutely wonderful things of your divine strawberry scones, Mrs. McCarthy, and I can’t wait to try them if you don’t mind,” Millie said to the older woman, shaking her hand.

“Oh, well, I… thank you very much,” Mrs. McCarthy spluttered, put a hand to her chest bashfully. “I’ve actually made them for dessert this evening.”

“Wonderful!” Millie beamed while in the background Bunty and Sidney celebrated the fact not as secretly as they might have thought.

“Shall we all have a seat?” Father Brown invited them and so they did.

Naturally the largest part of the attention was on Millie who fielded questions quite expertly. Every now and then she roped Henry into saying something as well but she did most of the talking.

“Can’t believe you managed to get this one to write a book, never mind two,” Sidney commented as she was retelling, all over again, how they had met.

“Well, he is rather good at it. With a few pointers and whole lot of editing of course.” She gave a fond look to the man beside her.

“Maybe you’ll reveal his alias to us, Millie? Valentine won’t tell us,” Bunty inquired, leaning forward conspiratorially.

Millie exchanged a look with him and he gave the tiniest of shrugs so she went ahead. “We probably went through a hundred of them that he didn’t like.” She rolled her eyes. “Then I gave him a telephone book, told him to open it on a page and put his finger somewhere. Then that was the alias.”

“And what is it?” Father Brown’s curiosity won as well.

“Horace Ruskin.”

“No!” Bunty gasped, her mouth wide open as she stared at Valentine.

“Penelope, close your mouth, we’re at dinner!” Mrs. McCarthy admonished her but Bunty remained unfazed.

“You’re Horace Ruskin?” Bunty couldn’t believe it. “I’ve devoured both of his, your, books cover to cover! I could not put them down until I’d finished them. Neither could Aunt Fliss!”

“I told you he’s good.” Millie smiled at him proudly.

“Trying my best, don’t I?” he replied mildly and watched Bunty coo, Sidney smirk, Mrs. M avert her eyes and Father Brown simply smile, when Millie leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“You do,” she said to him quietly and squeezed his knee under the table.

There were many, many more stories to tell and once again Father Brown surrendered a bottle from his secret stash, a delicious, rich red wine that he had once been gifted by Lady Felicia, he said. At least that way she could be part of this as well.

When they wandered home on not too steady knees afterwards, Millie swung their interlaced hands between them, humming a tune to herself as she often did when she’d had a few glasses.

“I’m going to like it here,” she said randomly into their companionable silence and somehow that loosened one of the last knots in his heart.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

+++++

Getting into a routine proved to require a lot of work and a lot of talking, as neither of them had ever shared a home with someone in this way. A one bedroom cottage was plenty for him, but for them together? But they made it work, somehow, and things started falling into place slowly but surely. It involved the odd heated argument that had one of them storming off somewhere but at the end of the day they went to bed together and got up together in the mornings as well.

Something that Henry had worried about a lot was how things were going to go with Millie’s work. But he should have known that she’d anticipate that worry and squash it under one of her well thought out plans, lest it become another bump in their road. She simply would not allow that.

Every two weeks she took the train to London to stay for two or three days, cramming in all the work she couldn’t take with her into them. The first time he didn’t go with for some inane reason, spending three terrible days feeling like a lost puppy, and when she was back, she told him in no uncertain terms that he would be coming with in the future, and that was that on that.

Getting married was quite a lot more work than either of them had first imagined and their guest list rounded out quicker than they had thought possible as well. Word had made its round both in Millie’s company via Nettie as well as the police station via a happy blab by Mrs. McCarthy to Inspector Mallory. All of a sudden their handful was multiplying easily and although they had first said they just wanted a small ceremony and nothing else, things were advancing into a proper reception do now and he could see that she was starting to love it.

What he didn’t love was that she wouldn’t let him weasel his way out of participating in the planning. Not having an opinion on flowers and cakes and decorations and music was simply not acceptable to her so he had to form opinions, whether he liked it or not. Of course, everything was made a lot easier by the entire town coming together to help them. Mrs. McCarthy was nearly in tears when Millie asked her if she’d mind making their wedding cake, Bunty happily suggested the ballroom at Montague for their reception and her cooking staff right with that, Sidney promised Lady Felicia’s best car for the day, and Father Brown had begun working on their wedding homily with so much time in advance like no other ceremony he had ever done before. Then there were also Inspector Mallory and Sergeant Goodfellow who seemed surprised to receive a formal invitation as well and then there was also one more Inspector that was invited as well.

“Thomas!” Millie stood and waved at the man who had just entered the little restaurant they had agreed to meet for dinner at. “Glad you could make it on time,” she said as Inspector Thomas Sullivan approached the table, a teasing undertone to her voice. He was over half an hour late. “I’m afraid Henry and I have already had a drink or two to pass the time so fair warning,” she added with a smile as he greeted Henry with a strong handshake and gave her the prompted kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks,” he replied dryly, sitting down. “Not so easy to get a hold of you either now.” He nodded at the two of them.

“Says the man I’ve been trying to get to dinner for three months,” she shot back and opened her menu. “I’ll be having the-”

“Spaghetti carbonara,” Henry finished for her with a knowing smile.

“He’s still an awfully good detective,” Millie grinned and patted at his knee under the table. “Did he send you the draft for the next book?”

“He didn’t, you did,” Thomas replied with a chuckle. “I’m about halfway through it now. Just as good as the others.”

Millie beamed at that, casting another proud look to her fiancé. “I’ll have you on as well, Thomas. Demand is high in that market.”

“Don’t bother saying no,” Henry finally spoke up himself. “She’s already decided.”

Millie provided her angel smile then and both men knew what that meant. “We’ll just have to meet up again soon. After the wedding of course, we’re quite busy until then.”

“One week.” Sullivan eyed both of them with a slight grin. “Any pre-wedding jitters?”

“Are you feeling jittery, my love?” she asked Henry who shook his head with a small smile. “Me neither. No jitters to report, inspector.”

“Glad to hear it.”

+++++

The week until the wedding was busy and when the morning of broke, both Millie and Henry were up very early. Father Brown had offered the guestroom at the presbytery to his friend for at least a little decorum and propriety while Millie had spent the first, and hopefully only, night alone at their house.

It was just before seven o’clock when the telephone rang and Millie had been sitting in her rocking chair with a cup of tea for a good half hour. She set her cup down and went to the telephone, gnawing on her bottom lip nervously, hoping that nothing terrible had happened.

“Kembleford, 73-”

“Good morning,” she was interrupted by a deep, raspy voice that painted a smile onto her face.

“Good morning, my love. You almost gave me a heart attack, thinking something terrible might have happened for someone to call so early.” She sat down on the chair they had put by the telephone, leaning on an elbow on the small table they had put the telephone on. There was just enough space to put down a notepad and write which they had found out was invaluable with the amount of time Millie spent on the telephone to Nettie and Lewis when she was working.

“No, nothing terrible. Other than sleeping terribly on my own,” he told her and she fiddled with the cuff of the shirt she was wearing.

“Yes, it really is quite terrible and we are never doing it again,” she decided and heard him laugh quietly.

“If you say so, darling.”

They were both quiet for a few moments.

“How are your feet?”

She chuckled. “Toasty warm in a pair of your socks, my love. In fact, I’m only wearing your things.”

“What a surprising turn of events.”

“Quite. I also couldn’t figure out how to do up more than three buttons so…” He made a small noise that brought a smirk to her face. “I’ll be seeing you at the church later then?”

“Noon sharp.”

“Noon sharp,” she confirmed. Neither of them hung up for a while. “I was having tea in my chair and reading our fairy tale again,” she offered up then, leaning her head back against the wall.

“Don’t you know the thing by heart now? Must have read it a hundred times,” he teased her gently.

“A hundred and two,” she corrected bossily and he chuckled. “I’ve decided I’m too selfish to let you write anything like it though.”

He laughed at that. “Never saw that coming, honey bee.”

“I don’t like to share,” she pointed out stubbornly.

“Neither do I.”

“Very well suited then, aren’t we?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“There _is_ something better you can say,” she prompted and closed her eyes when he said the words that she never got tired of hearing.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replied warmly. “Now I have to hang up because I have to get ready and these things take their time, Henry.”

He laughed loudly at that. “Yes, darling. I’ll see you at church then, noon sharp.”

“Noon sharp.”

Several hours later they did meet at noon sharp outside the presbytery and Mrs. McCarthy and Father Brown who were awaiting the bride and groom with everyone else inside already and Sidney who had driven the bride to the church were the only witnesses to the heart lifting moment when bride and groom first saw each other.

Henry was wearing a traditional black suit and Millie a floral beige dress, having decided against white for many reasons. The way their faces lit up and their eyes sparkled as their gazes met made Mrs. McCarthy dab at the corners of her eyes and share an emotional look with the Father. Sidney, for once, remained quiet but the large smile on his face spoke for itself.

“Ready?” Henry asked, offering Millie his arm.

“Ready,” she confirmed and looped hers through his.

Everyone present, from the congregation to helpers to priest, could tell just how deep and large the love shared between the couple up front was. It was in their smiles as they walked down the aisle together, in their little looks and little smiles and little touches they shared throughout the service. Most of all it was in the complete conviction with which they answered the Father’s questions.

“Henry Joseph Valentine, do you take Mildred Daubney for your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?” Father Brown asked and if his voice shook a little with emotion, no one could ever blame him.

“I do,” Henry answered confidently, his eyes never leaving Millie’s.

“Mildred Daubney, do you take Henry Joseph Valentine for your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

Although she had joked to Henry and everyone else that she might be rethinking things when asked, she answered just as promptly and just as firmly: “I do.”

They went on to exchange the rings and then, finally, came the conclusion of it all.

“It is my special pleasure and honor to pronounce you husband and wife,” Father Brown declared with a wide smile. “You may kiss the bride.”

There was no kissing the bride, the bride kissed the groom, fair and square, everyone saw it happen, everyone laughed about it. Millie reached for the lapels of his suit jacket and kissed her very new husband, laughing as they pulled apart.

“I present to you, Mister and Misses Valentine!”

They turned to the congregation, all of their friends and dear ones applauding them and cheering for them as they walked back up the aisle together, entering as two, leaving as one.

The wedding reception was a cheerful and joyous affair, aided by much good food and plenty of good drink, courtesy of Lady Felicia who had insisted to making the trek to Kembleford for the occasion as well. There were many a toast to the newlyweds, many a story shared, and even more moments where anyone with eyes could see the stars in the bride and groom’s as they looked at each other.

“She’s got all the inspectors wrapped around her pinky finger, doesn’t she?” Sidney commented teasingly, taking a seat on Valentine’s free side, the Father sitting on the other.

Millie was currently on the dance floor with Inspector Sullivan and had been for quite a while, and she had dragged Inspector Mallory onto the same just before that. Just for one dance but Mallory’s frown had lessened just so during it so it was a definite success.

“So you’re saying she doesn’t have you wrapped around her pinky finger as well, Carter?” Valentine questioned with raised eyebrows, taking a drag of the cigar that Lady Felicia had gifted him.

Sidney opened his mouth but shut it again very quickly. “Yeah, no, you’re right.”

Father Brown and Valentine both laughed at that.

“May I laugh as well?” the lady of the day asked with a smile, cheeks flushed from being twirled around the dance floor. All three men just looked at her with smiles and then she laughed as well. “I see. Well, I was wondering if I might ask my inspector for a dance. I’d quite like the set.” She gave her husband a warm smile and held out a hand for him.

“Millie-” he started to protest. The shoulder wasn’t giving him too much grief when he watched what he did and how much but giving her a twirl around the dance floor was definitely pushing it.

“Ah, listen,” she cut him off, holding up a finger. They all listened up and realized that the song that had just begun wasn’t one of the fast ones, it was a slow one. Henry took his wife’s hand and let her lead him to the dance floor, gladly wrapping her in his arms and tucking her under his chin for a good and sweet slow dance.

+++++

Married life was not much different than life previously, only that Millie liked to tease her husband by calling him her house husband since she was making more money than him. The first time she had done so hadn’t gone down so well with him but once she had made very clear that she meant well and loved every second of it, he took it good-naturedly like any other shenanigan his wife got up to and dragged him into.

“Mildred?”

Millie had gone up to tuck away the empty decorations boxes in the study, crinkling her nose at the fact that they were very quickly running out of space and definitely going to need more space soon, when she heard him call out for her. With her full given name.

“What is it?” she called back, coming down the stairs and finding Henry in their living room where they had just decorated the Christmas tree and fireplace mantle.

“There are three,” he pointed out, gesturing to the mantle where there were three Christmas stockings hung up.

“There are,” she confirmed, heart beating hard in her chest. “Astute detecting, my love.”

“Millie.” His tone and his look made it very clear that this was no time for joking. “Why are there three stockings?”

“They were on sale and I thought I’d make a bargain since we’re going to need three next Christmas anyway,” she answered as airily as she could which was not very airy at all, her voice was shaking slightly.

That seemed to close up his throat and he stared at her middle, stunned into silence. She swallowed and came closer until she was right in front of him.

“I know we didn’t plan this,” she began softly but he stopped her with a single look.

“You’re not taking the mickey out of me?” he whispered gruffly.

She shook her head. “Think we’ll really have to find a new house now.” She attempted a shaky smile.

“Say it.” He put an arm around the small of her back and pulled her into him.

“I’m having your baby, Henry Joseph Valentine,” she smiled cheerfully and continued to smile into the passionate kiss he gave her.

For the rest of the day those news were the cause of many happy but also a few disgruntled moments as Henry seemed to have instantly developed the opinion that his wife should not strain herself. She didn’t mind him taking out the roast out of the oven but she drew the line at him protesting her reaching up for their nicer wine glasses.

Later when they had gone to bed and his hand had found her stomach once more (although there wasn’t anything to feel yet), she had a final thought that she shared before drifting off.

“This time you have to let me be there when we tell Father Brown though,” she mumbled sleepily, covering his hand with hers. “I want to see his face.”

“Anything you want, darling,” he promised with a chuckle.

+++++


End file.
